


By a Thread

by 1478963255



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Library Sex, Orgasm, Out of Character, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 18:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1478963255/pseuds/1478963255
Summary: Ignatz is studying Saint Cethleann in the library late at night when Flayn stumbles upon him. She tries to educate him but he doesn't find her words any more reliable than the books. She is unhappy with him and decides to show him the true compassion of Saint Cethleann.F/M relationship. Rape, non-consensual. Set pre-timeskip. Flayn pretty OOC. Anonymous request.





	By a Thread

The stars glittered in hazy violet sky and the moon’s light illuminated the cloud blanketing its silver rays as it shined above Garreg Mach. The cathedral was still with barely a whisper of wind blowing through the grounds disturbing the dew-painted grass and the mirror of a pond. Most of the students were asleep, though professors, tutors and those dedicated to training their strength were still awake despite the moon’s calling for sleep.

In the library, illuminated by a single dim candle was a green-haired spectacled boy. He pushed the bridge further up his nose and pushed his nose deeper into the book. He was reading up on Cethleann again, trying to envision the goddess herself so that he could try to paint the most accurate portrait of her possible. He thought that to better acquaint himself with her, he was going to read up on deeds.

Ignatz twirled some of his hair around his finger, a stray strand that tickled his right ear as his eyes skimmed the page. With his left-hand he copied out a small sentence from the book he was reading, quill scratching across the papyrus.

He sat in the loft of the library, where the ceiling slanted, and he tucked himself away into a quiet corner with a small pile of books beside him. The eclipsed moon shined through the lone window beside his desk and he gazed out at it sometimes. He thought, perhaps, that maybe the goddess Cethleann was as beautiful as the moon; he knew that she healed many soldiers on the battlefield so likened her to the moon – peaceful, healing and kind.

“Oh, Ignatz.”

A voice startled the young boy and he jumped, knees thudding hard against the underside of the desk. He almost hit his head on the sloped roof, and he would have if he were any taller. He rubbed his knees with his hands and looked up.

“Flayn! What are you doing here?”

“I like to wander the monastery at night… it is quite peaceful, don’t you think?”

Ignatz nodded and glanced out the window again. The pond rippled where the fish tickled the surface, swelling and surging with each minute flip of a fin. Flayn came and took a seat at the desk opposite him and peered at the book.

“What’re you reading?”

“Oh, I’m researching Saint Cethleann. I’d like to paint a portrait of her.”

Flayn’s eyes went wide and she brought a delicate hand up to cover her mouth. “A portrait of Cethleann? How lovely of you. But why are you reading about her history?”

“I think that if I can figure out what type of person she was, I can paint a more accurate portrait of her.”

Flayn tilted her head and frowned slightly. “I’m not quite sure I follow.”

“It’s my belief that beautiful people perform beautiful deeds. I’ve read quite a few books about her now and it seemed she was an incredibly gracious, kind-hearted and patient woman and that she was greatly admired for her empathy and her ability to heal near fatal wounds. She must have been an especially compassionate woman and so I can only imagine she was beautiful, too,” Ignatz said, staring at the book as his face flushed red. He had never spoken about any other living girl or woman, let alone a saint, so full of praise before, he was almost embarrassed.

Flayn’s face heated up even more. “My… I have never heard you speak so fondly about anyone else before!”  
Ignatz rubbed the back of his head and his glasses slid down his nose. He avoided her bright green eyes and shrugged a little, returning to his book and picking up his quill, hoping to distract himself from the embarrassing situation. “Yes, well… I feel that I have a strong connection with Cethleann.”

“Y-You do?”

Ignatz nodded, finger running beneath the words on the page as his eyes darted back and forth with incredible speed. “Mhm. I think it’s because she was so kind and she cared deeply about others and did all she could to help everyone around her. I would like to do the same for my friends.”

“I-Ignatz…” Flayn sat at the desk, unsure of what to say. Throughout her entire lifetime, she had never heard anyone speak so fondly of Saint Cethleann before – Ignatz’ devotion was staggering. Most of Seiros’ followers were devout to only her and prayed to only her. A foreign warm feeling bubbled in her chest and she held a hand over her heart, quite unsure of what to do about the heat spreading up her throat and resting in her cheeks.

“I think I can help you!”

Ignatz lifted his head and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “You do?”

Flayn nodded earnestly, bright green eyes glimmering in the candlelight. “Yes! I’ll have you know that I am quite the expert on Saint Cethleann!”

“You are?”

Flayn frowned a little and puffed her cheeks out. “You doubt me!”

Ignatz scratched the side of his nose and tilted his gaze to library loft’s floorboards. “Well… I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

Flayn huffed and swept her head back over her shoulder and it hung just before her chest. “Well, I am. So, allow me to educate you on Saint Cethleann’s deeds!”

Ignatz shrugged and held his quill at the ready. Flayn sat upright, holding a hand on her chest and cleared her throat, as if she were about to address a nation of devout followers.

“Saint Cethleann lived a secluded life with her father, Saint Cichol, who was an intelligent, compassionate but sometimes overbearing person. One day, they met Saint Seiros, who was deeply troubled by the chaos and vast destruction of war and so, the three decided to work together and join forces.”

Ignatz’ hand scratched across his papyrus quickly and messily. He didn’t allow enough time for the ink to dry and so when he brought his left hand down to write again, it smeared what he had already written, imprinting his cursive writing into the side of his palm. Thankfully, it was still readable and so he re-dipped his quill into the ink well and continued writing hurriedly. Flayn felt smug watching his hand scribe every word she spoke.

“At the battle of Tailtean, they fought against the Ten Elites, lead by Nemesis. It was the battle where he was slain, for Seiros could not allow such a cruel and warped man to conquer the world. Even though it was an arduous and violent battle, Cethleann tended to her allies and healed them to the best of her ability. There was so many that required her help that she exhausted all of her strength and soon, fell into a deep slumber.”

Ignatz looked up with a confused expression on his face. “But…” he began. He turned to the pile of books beside him and ran his fingers down their spines, pulling one out of the tower somewhere in the middle. It was a green leather-bound book with the crest of Cethleann emblazoned on the top – Flayn was familiar with the book. Ignatz compared his notes to the book and flicked to a page, pointing with his finger.

“But… it says here that she managed to heal _all_ of the wounded…”

Flayn huffed and frowned angrily at Ignatz. “You think I am lying?”

“N-No, not at all! It just… this is a history book and… what you’re saying…”

“You cannot trust my words? You trust the book more than my words?”

Ignatz pulled an awkward face and nervously smoothed the plume of his quill between his fingers. He tugged at his cravat too; honestly, _yes,_ that was the truth. The book was far more reliable than Flayn’s words, right? What if they were just nursery rhymes and tales that Seteth had told her when she was a baby that she had gotten confused with the real myth? He didn’t doubt the honesty of her tale, just the extent of it – had it been stretched to make it appear more glorious than what it really was?

“Well…”

Flayn turned in her seat, almost with her back to Ignatz. “Hmph. I hope that you at least learned _something_ about Saint Cethleann since she was a very kind, benevolent and _wise_ girl.”

“Girl?”

Flayn’s eyes widened but she tried to remain strong. “Girl, woman, saint… w-whatever you wish to call her!”

Ignatz regarded her with a confused expression. Had he offended Flayn in some way? He didn’t think he had, and he certainly hadn’t intended to do so. He watched her but she didn’t flinch and still sat facing away from him with her arms folded across her chest in a sulking kind of way. Steadily, he stood and picked up the stack of books in his arms, heading to a narrow alcove where he had retrieved the books. His candle was shrinking dangerously small by now and decided that perhaps, it was time for bed.

Putting the books back into their dedicated places one by one, he let his fingers linger on the spines of the books and turned. A hand clamped over his mouth and his surprised cry was muffled.

“You really think that I am lying, don’t you?”

Ignatz’ eyes shot wide as he stared down at Flayn, whose hand was pressed firmly against his mouth and he was too surprised to pull her grip away. Her eyes were burning bright with a kind of frustration he never saw in the coy girl’s face before. Her brow was heavy and cast a dark shadow over her eyes, making her look all the more sinister in the darkness of the library’s lonely alcove.

“You think I know nothing of Saint Cethleann?”

What on earth did her hand being over his mouth have to do with Saint Cethleann? Had she taken this entire thing far too personally? Ignatz lifted a hand to try and pull her away from her mouth but a sharp palm against the front of his trousers silenced him. He choked behind her mouth and his eyes went wide, suddenly filling with fear.

“Let me show you just how _compassionate_ Saint Cethleann really is,” Flayn threatened. Her hand came away from Ignatz’ shocked mouth and her mouth slammed against his. The young boy was thrown back against the bookshelves, his head colliding harshly with the leather spines as her smooth mouth attacked his. He was frozen with fear, quivering in his boots as the hand on the front of his trousers squeezed painfully hard and her mouth was messy and unexperienced against his.

_Oh Gods,_ what on earth was happening? He didn’t want this, never thought of Flayn, honestly, as anything more than a classmate and fellow member of the school. He barely communicated with her, afraid of the repercussions her brother would rain down upon him if he caught the pair only talking.

Yet here she was, with her tongue trying to slip into his mouth and a firm hand massaging against the front of his trousers. His fingers scrabbled behind him against the books until finally, he found it in himself to shove her away from him. She stumbled and staggered, back connecting with the banister that prevented her from tumbling to the floor below.

They both breathed heavily but Flayn had a blazing fury in her eyes that unnerved Ignatz.

“Flayn… w-what are you doing?”

“You think I’m lying about Saint Cethleann… such a thing is… unforgivable,” she murmured.

“What? I don’t understand why you’re angry!”

Flayn leapt back on Ignatz and pushed her body against his, pinning him to the wall. He tilted his head back from hers, trying to avoid her and she yanked on his cravat pulling him down to her level. He choked when the fabric tightened around his windpipe.

“If you make a sound… I’ll tell my brother about this.”

Ignatz froze, petrified. His mouth fell agape, struggling to find anything to say and in the end, decided it was best not to say anything. Flayn smiled and it was almost cute if it weren’t for the sinister intentions behind it; she crashed her lips into Ignatz’ again and tried to worm her tongue past his lips and into his mouth.

He wrenched his eyes shut, clinging onto the bookshelf behind him and he refused to open his mouth. Flayn made a disapproving sound against his mouth and smacked his crotch hard. Ignatz cried out pathetically and Flayn seized her chance, sliding her tongue into her unwilling partner’s mouth. He whimpered into her mouth, keeping his own tongue flat against the bottom of his mouth as her small, hot, wet muscle sought to explore his mouth.

The small hand against the front of his crotch was massaging back and forth and his body revolted against the touch; it was uncomfortable for numerous reasons. The fabric of his trousers against his soft cock was doing nothing for him but more than that, he hated the feeling of her attacking and violating his body. He had never so much as kissed a girl before all this and he sobbed softly knowing that it had been stolen away from him.

Flayn drew back from the kiss, panting and ran her tongue over her lips, as if she were savouring the taste of him. He felt disgusted and his stomach twisted with knots. Was that the end of it? Was that the end of her torture?

It seemed not.

With a grip far stronger than he thought possible, she forced his head to the side and attacked his neck with her lips, kissing and sucking softly at first. She pulled on his cravat, choking him momentarily before it came loose, and she let it fall to the floor. Her fingers unbuttoned the back of his waistcoat and she yanked it forward, letting it come from his chest and pulled impatiently at his shirt. Why were the uniforms so _complicated?_

“Flayn… p-please… s-stop…” Ignatz whimpered.

She ignored him and her mouth came down on his jutting collarbone. He had little muscle on him and so his delicate collarbones projected clearly through his skin. He shivered, knees turning weak; he wanted to run away, he wanted to shove her aside and run back to his room and hide beneath the covers of his bed for the rest of his life but he was terrified what she -or Seteth- would do.

“Quiet,” she whispered bluntly, moving her mouth over Ignatz’ exposed upper chest. Her lips latched onto the crook where his neck and shoulder met, and she sucked hard. Ignatz cried out and his own hand flew across his mouth, heeding Flayn’s threat. Her small mouth was cruel against his skin, uncompassionate and unforgiving as she sucked a deep purple mark into his virgin skin.

She drew back and huffed, whistling cold air over the scorching mark. Ignatz felt sick, the mark felt like poison and it felt like her venom was coursing through his veins. His legs felt unsteady and he slid down the bookcase, landing against the floor with his head hung and he wanted to curl in on himself in a foetal position.

Flayn towered over him and stared down at him pitifully.

“I do not take lightly to being discredited,” she said coldly.

Ignatz was aghast with shock; how could such a fragile and kind-hearted girl behave this way? Had he truly upset her so much that she felt like this was the best way to ‘punish’ him? He scrabbled against the floor and wanted to sink into the bookshelf when Flayn slid her boots off and then reached under her dress. He shielded his eyes with his hands and cowered before her.

He could hear the rustle of fabric and dreaded to think what he would find when he opened his eyes. A hand caressed the top of his head and instinctively flinched from it. The hand returned, still gentle and then gripped hard, yanking Ignatz’ head up. His glasses were sliding down his nose again, but he could still clearly see Flayn’s bare pussy glistening above him.

“Saint Cethleann is a gracious and kind woman… remember that,” she said. What on earth did her words have to do with the moment in which he found himself? Ignatz barely had a moment to think about the meaning behind her words any longer when she pulled his head up beneath her dress and forced her pussy against his mouth.

He let out a muffled cry and his hands flew to her knees, trying to push her away. He had little strength in him, and she stood her ground, moaning softly when she rocked her hips forward and her pussy slid against his mouth. He refused to part his lips and instead pursed them as tightly as possible, but it seemed Flayn didn’t care, instead taking pleasure in the feeling of her heat finally getting some attention.

“A-Ah…”

“Flayn?”

A voice called in from outside the library. Both of them froze; it was _Seteth._ Gods, the man had impeccable timing. For a second, Ignatz seriously considered calling out for help but knew that if he found them in the predicament that they were in, he would have Ignatz thrown into the chasm outside Garreg Mach personally. Instead, he opted for staying silent, staring up Flayn’s slim young body into her equally frightened eyes.

“Flayn? Are you in here?”

She grinned wickedly and ground her dripping heat against Ignatz’ mouth even further. She was _relentlessly cruel_. Hot salty tears spilled freely down the spectacled boy’s cheeks and he wished the world would swallow him whole. Flayn stared down at him and mouthed the word down at him.

‘Open.’

Afraid if he didn’t obey, Ignatz parted his lips and let his tongue loll just past his lips. Flayn held onto her dress with one hand and the other remained firm in Ignatz’ hair, using him like a toy to seek out her own selfish pleasure, grinding down against his open mouth. She tasted unlike anything he had ever tasted before; it wasn’t unpleasant and yet, Ignatz revolted as it touched his tongue. He wanted to cry.

The pair heard footsteps walking away and Flayn sighed a heavy breath of relief.

“That was close… just think… what would my dear brother say if he saw you like this… with your sinful mouth against my holiest of places…”

Ignatz cried openly against her pussy, finally drawing breath into his starved lungs when Flayn let go of his hair. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and whimpered; he could still taste her on his tongue, and he wanted to cut out his tongue so that he would never have to savour the aftertaste ever again.

Flayn dropped to her knees before him and Ignatz’ head rolled against his shoulders. _No. She wouldn’t._ But it seemed like she absolutely would when her fingers tugged his trousers undone and she reached into his smallclothes to draw his cock out. It was limp, soft and unimpressive.

Flayn huffed and then leaned down. She took his cock between her delicate fingers and brought it up to her mouth, trying to suck it to life. Ignatz was crying uncontrollably, one hand pressed against the top of Flayn’s head where he was trying with what little strength, he could summon to push her off.

“S-Stop… Flayn, this is… ah! No!” Ignatz cried out.

Her mouth was hot, and she sucked on the soft limp muscle, managing to fit the entire thing into her mouth without much effort. He was truly pitiful, unable to find himself aroused by a cute girl gracing him with her mouth over his cock, but he was revolted at the action, trying to close his legs. Time was passing achingly slowly and as much as he hated his own body going against him, he could feel the heat pooling in his groin as he stirred to life.

“I don’t want this… please stop, I don’t… w-wan- _ah!_” Flayn’s mouth sank down the whole way and his half-hard cock seemed more than ample for her. She drew back with a gentle pop and lifted up her dress.

With a tongue poking out of her lips to lick at her upper lip, she was breathing heavily when she sat in Ignatz’ lap. Her bare pussy caressed against his semi-hard cock and she rubbed up against it, pleased with the friction the crown of his caused against her clit.

“N-Not like this… I beg of you…” Ignatz pleaded, staring into Flayn’s hazy emerald eyes. She met his gaze and smiled, sickeningly sweet; his stomach churned.

Her hot and impossibly tight pussy walls came down on top of Ignatz’ cock. He cried out and his tears rolled once more. He wanted to vomit, his head was spinning, and he was burning hot and icy cold all at the same time. He couldn’t control his body nor his mind anymore, completely at Flayn’s mercy though it appeared, she had absolutely none.

His half-hard cock slid inside of her and she moaned quietly, biting her lower lip. It was awkward to get him inside and his cock almost bent excruciatingly but she adjusted her hips and he was sheathed all the way inside. Ignatz’ hands were flat against the floor and he knew that there were desperate claw marks sunken into the wood where he had been digging and searching for something, _anything._

Slowly, Flayn raised her hips. Not all the way since she was afraid that once she came up, that getting Ignatz back inside would prove far too difficult so instead, she only lifted herself an inch or two. Ignatz let out a choked and staggered groan, his entire body weak and lax yet aching with tension.

“Mmh… w-what if my brother… caught us like this, hm?” she whispered down to him. Her feet were planted firmly on the ground, either side of his spread his and she was squatting on his cock, lifting up her dress so that Ignats could watch where his pathetic cock pushed in and out of her. “He would have your head… if he knew you defiled, _ah_… his precious little s-sister…”

“No, Flayn… I d-didn’t, nngh...!”

“_O-Oh,_ but look… we’re connected here…” she said hotly, bringing one hand to spread herself and Ignatz swallowed down his bile. The sight was sickening; she was taking his virginity, violating him in the most unholy way possible. He grit his teeth hard when her hips started to circle.

“I can feel you inside… it is not that big… but it is e-enough, ah…” Flayn breathed. Her words hurt him and he wept openly as she continued to defile him, her hips rocking down against his with a stronger force than before. Her fingers circled over her clit and he wrenched his eyes shut, unable to watch and just wished she would hurry and be done with him already.

“Ignatz… y-you make me feel so g-good…” she moaned and it felt like a sword cutting cleanly through him. How could such a vile act feel good to her? Ignatz wanted to wash away her filth from his body, anywhere she had touched, but knew it would never remove the memory of her hands against his skin. Her fingers quickened and she shuddered.

“I-I’m going to… b-because of you… you m-make me, _ah… h-hah!_”

Flayn cried out and her knees knocked together in her squatting position. Ignatz felt her stiffen above him and something wet and hot dribbled down his balls and onto his trousers. He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to scorch the image of Flayn cumming into his brain. Her eyes wrenched shut and her pretty pink mouth fell open, pinching her clit between her fore-finger and middle finger.

She collapsed against his chest, leaning and nuzzling into the fabric, as if they were a couple. His cock was still half-hard, and he loathed to admit it, harder than when they had started. His legs were aching with the tension of being so taught for so long, ready to run any second his brain allowed him to do so. Flayn cuddled closer into Ignatz and her eyes slid shut.

“Mmh… thank you… that was… incredible,” she hummed. “I have not felt so good in… y-years…”

Ignatz was horrified and repulsed. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat once more and stared down at Flayn’s green hair with revulsion. He realised that he truly _loathed_ her. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Ignatz was especially apprehensive. He jumped when anyone tried to speak with him and recoiled when their hand came anywhere near his person. He would laugh nervously and brush them off, claiming that a nightmare had left him particularly unsettled.

Later, Raphael came and knocked on his dormitory’s door.

“It’s me,” he said.

Ignatz cracked the door open and checked if he was alone before opening the door all the way. Raphael raised an eyebrow suspiciously. He saw a torn canvas discarded in the corner of Ignatz’ room.

“I thought you were painting Saint Cethleann.”

Ignatz bristled. “I was.”

“What happened?” Raphael asked, shocked by the destruction brought upon the canvas. The face had been slashed cleanly.

“I… decided I wanted to paint something different.” Raphael thought that perhaps there was more to the subject but decided not to press it any further, judging by the trembling of Ignatz’ pale hands.


End file.
